Heart and Loins
by Mariel Nightstalker
Summary: Genesis drags Angeal out on the town. Angeal finds himself going home with someone unexpected. CROSSOVER SLASH Angeal Hewley/Harry Potter


A/N: Obviously, I love FF7 and HP. I also love writing both of them at the same time, kind of like eating chocolate and marshmallows together. I have never seen this pairing, which sucks. So I'm writing it. I mean, honestly people. Angeal should've been paired with everyone and their mother by now.

Also, I obviously don't understand the FF7 currency, so I'm using the American one. 

**Heart and Loins**

SOLDIERS, ShinRa's super-human warriors, like to celebrate promotions. They do this in many ways. The most popular of these ways, which include official (code for extremely boring) ceremonies and getting medals and enduring hearing your mother tell you how proud she is while she sobs all over your new uniform, is to go below the Plate and get so drunk you can't see straight.

Angeal was not a drinking kind of man most days, but his childhood friend Genesis had been promoted to First Class that morning and he couldn't very well be a stick in the mud when everyone else was going out with him to celebrate. He didn't have to live in the labs with a curfew of 10:00 p.m. like poor Sephiroth, so he had no viable excuse to not go anyway.

The evening had started out typically enough. Energy buzzed through the group as they drank their first drinks and chatted with friends. Things went slightly downhill when tequila shots were introduced, same as they usually did whenever tequila so much as peeked onto the scene. Drinking games only made things worse, until, at 2 in the morning, someone announced that they should go to the red light district.

Angeal, having nursed only a six pack worth of beers that night, was the most sober in the group. As such, he tried to derail this plan out of a sense of responsibility, but to no effect. They were already trooping down the street, leaving him behind. He considered slinking away, but then Genesis came back, wrapped an arm around his neck, and dragged him along.

Once they reached the red district, the group split up fairly quickly according to individual taste and sexuality. The straights didn't want to go to gay clubs and the gays didn't want to stare at tits, so they primarily split that way into two larger groups with other smaller parties splitting off.

Angeal quickly found himself left alone with Genesis on the sidewalk in front of a gay club. He scowled down at him. Genesis knew damn well that he, although no longer in the closet, wasn't comfortable with the debauchery common in red district clubs.

"Genesis…"

"Oh come on! Just this once, Angeal, can you _not _be a total prude? Pretty please?"

He sighed and rubbed a hand over his face, "Fine. But we're leaving in two hours tops, okay? I don't want to see the sun before my head hits the pillow." 

Genesis made a face at him but agreed to his terms and charged across the street to the club. They slipped past the bouncer while he was juggling a pair of middle-aged rabble rousers. When Angeal asked why that was necessary, Genesis claimed that the entrance fee was exorbitant.

Inside, it was essentially a large rectangle room divided by three slender boardwalks and a bar against the far wall. Each of the boardwalks was lit by different colored lights and featured dancers in various states of undress. Mingling with the customers were escorts hired from an agency to mingle with the customers and female impersonators who made crude jokes and flirted blatantly for tips.

Angeal heaved an internal sigh and tried not to think about how many different diseases he could pick up from touching the table with his bare hands. Genesis showed no such distress, and cheerfully procured a front row seat at the middle stage. There was a bulky blonde in a purple thong gyrating about two feet from his face, and he advanced about an inch for every bill Genesis slipped into his already-full garter. Judging by the dancer's admiring looks, he didn't mind getting close to Genesis in the least and probably would've done it for free.

He made a bee line for the bar and ordered a scotch and soda. The music was so loud his ear drums were already aching, and he just wanted to go home, water his plants, and go to bed. Why did people subject themselves to this kind of discomfort for the sake of 'fun'?

Deciding to make the best of it, he stayed by the bar and looked around for someone to admire. There were a lot to choose from, but his eyes found themselves wandering to a particular escort more than once. He made himself comfortable on a stool and let himself stare.

Nicely-proportioned bones, not too skinny, not too bulky; dark hair, moon tan; a tattoo of a dragon spanning his back and half his stomach. Pretty, but not too pretty. No disgusting piercings, no flashy scarifications or brands. He was just a natural sort of man with nice features and a gorgeous smile. In short, he was Angeal's type to a 'T'.

He sighed and wondered what he would smell like. Probably like cigarettes and cheap booze, but a man could dream.

Halfway through his second scotch, the escort approached him. At first he didn't know that he was there for him, assuming that he'd been signaled over by one of the other patrons. But when green eyes (gaia he hoped those weren't contacts) winked at him and a well-manicured hand settled onto his bicep, any questions he might have had flew out the window.

"Hey!" he sidled up beside him, close enough that their hips touched. He leaned close and said, "I've seen you watching me. Buy me a drink?"

He didn't smell like cigarettes, and he didn't smell like booze. He didn't even smell like cologne. He smelled like the air before a thunderstorm, like dragons, like moss and freshly-turned earth.

He stared for several seconds and then dragged his wits out of the wind and asked him what he'd like. He ordered a beer in direct contrast to his co-workers, who seemed to like the sugary brightly-colored offerings.

"So, do you come here much?"

It was hard to hear him over the music, but a slower song came on just then, saving him the trouble of shouting.

"I, uh, no, not really; this isn't my scene. I'm here because of him," he indicated the middle stage, suddenly noticing that the redhead dancing on top of the bar to loud catcalls from the rowdier drunks was Genesis. As they watched, Genesis began to undo the buttons of his shirt and shimmy it down his shoulders. Angeal turned away, embarrassed, but the escort watched with vague appreciation for a little longer. Angeal needlessly tacked on, "He got a big promotion this afternoon, so we're celebrating."

The escort nodded, with either real or feigned interest. Angeal couldn't tell.

"What's your name?"

"DJ."

He grinned, "Really?"

"It's short for Daniel Justinian, which is kind of a mouthful. You can call me Dan if you'd like."

There was an undeniable coating of seduction over the word 'mouthful', and Angeal shifted his legs, trying to alleviate some of the discomfort he was feeling in his trousers. Dan smiled and squeezed his arm, eyes full of expensive promises.

"Want to go somewhere more… private? It's kind of crowded in here."

He hesitated, but then he remembered his unspent bonus from last month and thought about how he really should stop being so incredibly responsible all the time. A final glance at the stage revealed Genesis being showered in money, nearly naked.

He nodded to Dan and let him lead him out of the front room and through the curtains at the back. A hallway branched off in several directions, lined with doors. It was almost too dark for a normal person to see, and he knew that his eyes must have begun to glow from the looks Dan kept giving him.

Dan smiled when their eyes met, odd sincerity behind it. Angeal hadn't expected an escort to be able to smile like that. He must actually enjoy his job, he reasoned.

The door Dan picked, seemingly at random, opened to reveal a dimly lit little room with a plush sofa against the wall and a pole against the other. The door shut with a click behind them, and Dan guided him over to the sofa. He was buzzed now from the alcohol, and was happy for the sofa's support.

Dan settled on the sofa beside him, crossing his legs so that the upper one looped over Angeal's.

"Now, what would you like to do and for how long?"

Up until now he had successfully concealed the fact that he had never done anything at a strip club before. What, exactly, did escorts do? Were they just like hookers, or was there some kind of distinction?

"Um…"

Dan leant closer, seemed to read something in his face, and leaned back with a reassuring smile, "Is this your first time with an escort?"

"I…" honesty is the best policy, "Yeah."

"That's okay. You don't have to feel nervous. My cheapest sexual service is $100, and it's a hand job. If you wanted something milder like a dance, then there are professionals who you could pay or you could have me give you one. Those are usually between $100-$300, depending on how long and how much you want to see."

This was a lot to take in at once, and he found himself fuzzily questioning the wisdom of paying an escort for anything. He wasn't ugly, and he would have no problem picking someone up for free. And yet…and yet…

Well, chances were that Dan was far more attractive and experienced than any other person that would cross his path that night. Plus, he wanted to see the look on Genesis' face tomorrow when he told him that he'd consorted with an escort.

"And how much would it cost me to get you to come home with me for the night?"

Dan raised his eyebrows and looked at him in a new light, a smirk playing about the corners of his mouth.

"Well, that would be violating the contract my boss made with this club for the evening, but we close in an hour and I never did like the rules. I could get someone to cover for me, but it's going to cost you."

"How much?" he repeated, dragging his thumb along one of the many contrived tears in Dan's trousers, fingernail scraping his flesh. Dan's eyes fluttered and he let out a little sigh.

"$4000. And the location needs to be a hotel, not a private residence, brothel, or motel. I'll meet you at the hotel of your choice as soon as I get off work, and you'll pay me when I arrive. I take all major credit cards, checks, and cash. It's your choice."

Angeal pulled out his mobile and searched his contacts for Rufus. Dialing, he waited for him to pick up.

"What?"

He grinned at the characteristic greeting of the President's son.

"Hey Rufus; it's Angeal here. Remember that huge favor you owe me?"

"Yes…?"

"I'm calling it in. Is the Grand Suite at the Shinra Hotel available tonight?"

Rufus paused, and he could hear him talking to someone else in the room. "Yes, it is. I'm assuming you want it?"

"Yep."

Rufus sighed, "Fine. It's on the 31st floor. Use your thumb print to get inside."

"Thanks."

He hung up, and relayed the information to Dan. Dan seemed impressed, and rightly so. It was a rich man that had the money to spend even one night at the Shinra Company Hotel, much less in the Grand Suite. Angeal was thankful he didn't have to pay for it.

~000~

Harry was nervous. He hadn't been on Gaia long: only six months. It'd been a startling discovery, that day in the lab with Luna, to find that traveling between alternate universes was possible and that you could survive. Unfortunately, they hadn't thought far enough before he performed the first test travel. There was no way for him to get home, so he had no choice but to make a life for himself any way he could.

With no identification, no education that meant anything here, and certainly no money, he ended up in the underworld in a matter of hours. He was lucky, he supposed, that he stumbled across Clive. Clive was a pimp, but he was kind-hearted enough to not cut someone unless they gave him a reason to. Harry didn't speak a word of the language, but he learned quickly enough to understand that Clive would feed him and clothe him if he had sex with customers and was polite.

It was better than dying cold and hungry, so he submitted to the terms and became a prostitute. Later, when his grasp of the language became good enough, he was let out as an escort. This confused him at first until he talked to Johan, one of the other escorts, and discovered that, on average, he had twice as many customers as the other escorts working for Clive. Something about him appealed to people, apparently. Some things never changed it would seem.

He knew it was foolish to go off with a customer, and that Clive would punish him somehow if he found out, but it'd been a while since he'd done something against the rules and his inner delinquent wouldn't be silenced.

Angeal was also extremely attractive, and his eyes gave away that he was one of the elite SOLDIERs that worked for Shinra, the bizarre electrical company that doubled as an international government.

And so he let himself into the Shinra building, rode the glass elevator up to the 31st floor, and knocked on the door of Room 3101.

Angeal opened it, smiled at him, and stood the side to let him through.

He toed off his shoes in the tiled area by the door as was customary in this country. Angeal's boots dwarfed his little pointed dress shoes, and he spared himself a private smile. He'd always liked big men. Not for the obvious perverted reasons, but because of the subconscious part of him that recognized them as protectors. Those arms could keep someone so very safe.

The Grand Suite deserved its title. Everything that could be gilt or marble was so, and the even the drapes were made from heavy gold and blue brocade. There was a cut-glass chandelier lighting the sitting room, hanging by a heavy chain. Thick white carpet muffled every sound but his breathing and the faint rustling of his clothes as he moved about the room.

They got the matter of money out of the way right away, to avoid it clouding the evening. Once finished, Angeal asked,

"Would you like a drink?"

"Just water, please."

He heard Angeal busying himself with a decanter, probably crystal, and moved towards the window. Peeking out between the brocade curtains, he admired the view of the Upper Plate. He'd only been up here a few times, but certainly never this high up. It was beautiful, all those little lights representing buildings and street lamps and even store fronts.

There were no stars in the sky, but the intense pollution had wiped away those decades ago according to Clive.

Angeal approached him and handed him one of two glasses of iced water. They drank, Harry meeting and holding his eyes. He'd been crooned at enough times by amorous customers to know that his eyes were a major selling point, something that had never crossed his mind back on his home planet.

He drained his glass and set it on the window sill. He took a step closer to Angeal. He really was a big man, now that they stood face to face like this. Broad and tall and strong, he presented an intimidating figure. Harry wondered what kind of weapon he used, but didn't ask. Most men didn't like to be reminded of their normal lives when with him, likely because those other lives had wives and children and responsibilities in them.

Maybe Angeal was married. He wore no ring, but that meant nothing.

Angeal was breathing a little heavy, and his hand trembled just a bit around his glass. Here in this opulent room, Harry felt under-dressed and tiny. He summoned his courage and took away Angeal's glass, setting it down beside his on the sill.

Angeal's eyes followed his movements. He was silent, an unusual trait in first-timers. Normally they chattered nine to the dozen to hide their fear. It was nice, the lack of banal conversation.

Tilting his head, he rubbed his cheek against Angeal's pectoral through his button-down. It was navy-blue, simple, and probably cotton. It was soft from many washes, and a little faded around the cuffs. He smiled a private smile, endeared to this man.

An arm big enough to crush him without a thought came cautiously up and wrapped around his waist. His other hand tilted Harry's head back, fingers tracing the contours of his neck. He bit his lip, bent his head an inch, and then continued the rest of the way until his mouth touched Harry's lips.

He made to part them, but decided at the last moment to wait and let Angeal guide this instead of immediately seizing the aggressive position. This proved to be a good decision, because Angeal turned out to be the courting type. He kissed him gently, keeping his hands on his face and waist. Harry sighed and let himself relax.

He didn't like the rough customers, and had come to appreciate a man that liked to savor.

Running his hands up his chest, he pushed them into thick black hair and massaged his scalp. Angeal made a sound in his throat, and parted his lips. Harry followed his lead and waited for Angeal to draw him into a deeper kiss. He continued to massage his skull, digging his index fingers into the ridges of what felt like old scars beneath his hair and scraping his nails along the lower section. He pushed his thumbs into his temples, one palm curling around a rounded ear. It was pierced, and he tugged playfully on his earring.

Angeal lifted him bodily after that and took them to the larger of the sofas. Sitting down, he let Harry arrange himself in his lap before drawing his lips back to his own.

When they paused for air and stretching of jaw muscles, Harry breathlessly asked, "Wouldn't you rather be in the bedroom?"

He shook his head, hands cupping his hipbones, "We have all night. I'm in no rush."

Harry smiled, ducked his head, and bit his fuzzy chin. No one had ever said that, and he had to suppress a rush of girlish sentimentality. This was a paid service, not a date. A service, not a date!

Angeal pawed bearishly at his calves, then his thighs, and finally pressed a hand against his crotch. He smiled when Harry gasped, and restrained his hand from doing the same to him.

"Not yet."

That was unfair. Harry didn't argue, though, and let himself be pet and fondled. It felt nice to have this role reversal, and the customer was always right. Large hands reached the front of his shirt and began to unbutton it, pausing with every button undone to kiss the newest inch of bare skin. It was agonizingly slow, and Harry had to balance on his knees by the time Angeal reached the bottom.

He pressed his cheek to Harry's arousal, humming in the back of his throat. His palms were very warm against his backside; the long finger insistently tracing the seam of his jeans was making him flustered and squirmy. He held still with an effort, but he could tell by the smirk on Angeal's face that he had noticed the effect he was having. The finger dug in deeper and dipped low enough to brush his sack.

"It's okay…you can move around if you like," he murmured, turning his head and mouthing the outline of his crotch.

Harry made a desperate sound and moved his hips forward, trying to follow the random pattern of Angeal's sucks. The hands moved to the front of his jeans and undid them without hurry and then slid them down his hips.

He held onto his shoulders, holding his breath.

Angeal hooked a finger through the waistband of his thin designer underwear and tugged it down on one side, revealing his hipbone. He kissed it. Pulling it down on the other side, he kissed the opposite hipbone. This accomplished, he finally slid them completely down his thighs to become thick around his spread knees.

Harry obediently lifted a leg at Angeal's request and let him pull off his clothing. Naked in his lap a moment later, he initiated his first kiss of the evening, taking his lower lip between his and sucking on it.

Angeal pulled him flush against his still-clothed body and rolled them onto their sides, Harry beneath him. He cleverly suspended his weight so that Harry was only partially crushed, and wrapped one of Harry's thighs around his waist. Running his palm down the side of his body, from his armpit to his ankle, he turned his head to admire his feet.

White girlish insteps, curved like a slivered moon; long well-groomed toes. They were the loveliest feet he'd ever seen, not that he had a fetish for that sort of thing.

When he turned back to Dan, he was smiling at him with something extra in his eyes. Dan trailed his fingers down his neck to his collar and tugged on it.

"Does this have to stay on?"

He shook his head, unable to speak. Dan copied his earlier slowness and kissed a different part of his face for every button he unfastened. That finished, he helped him push it over his shoulders and down his arms and onto the floor. Angeal let some more of his balance go so that he could press their chests together.

Harry was lost in admiration. He would never be as muscled as this, surely. There were faint white scars scattered across the expanse of his chest, but they enhanced rather than distracted from the underlying beauty of him.

Angeal seemed to have a thing for his legs, because he kept stroking them as they kissed each other's faces, ears, necks, and shoulders. The first rock of his hips against his made his eyelids flutter half-way, and the second made them shut entirely. He sighed against his mouth and let himself be carried away in the sensations.

The buckle of his belt and the button of his trousers eventually began to dig into his groin, and he had to break away from his mouth to whisper his request that he take them off. Angeal looked down, saw the beginnings of a red imprint on Harry's lower stomach, and complied.

Naked, he picked Harry up for the second time that evening, this time like a bride. He made a detour to the window and grabbed their water with two fingers like a skilled waiter.

Double doors, painted pale blue, opened into a massive bedchamber with a bed large enough for ten.

Harry was laid down on his back, his head sinking into a dove-down pillow. He watched, wide-eyed, as Angeal refreshed their glasses and offered Harry a sip of his. He accepted it and let Angeal stroke the back of his neck and his shoulders as he drank. Giving the glass back, he lay back against the pillows again and watched.

From nowhere (The nightstand? Under the bed? Thin air?), Angeal produced lubricant and a clear condom. Harry was grateful for the lack of silliness, since colored or flavored condoms always made him want to laugh and remember Fred and George trying to explain to him the benefits of pie-flavor.

Angeal crawled between his legs, which Harry obediently spread, toes curling into the sheets. The thread count had to be high because they felt almost watery in their softness. Angeal grabbed a pillow from the headboard and tucked it courteously under Harry's arched lower back.

Coming back down against him, he ran his thumb across his lips and bent to capture them again. His right hand ran up the underside of his calf, cupped the sensitive back of his knee, and spread his leg out wide. Harry couldn't hold in a chuckle as his pinky tickled the back of his knee. Angeal smiled against his lips and nibbled on his upper one.

His crotch was unexpectedly and thoroughly groped. The swift friction and unaccountable heat of those hands left him thrashing and trying to think of something other than coming. As suddenly as it'd come, the hand retreated and trailed down to press inside.

He relaxed and let Angeal get on with it, sucking on the tip of his tongue.

Three fingers and an extra application of lubricant later had Angeal making eye contact and asking him if he was ready. Harry just nodded and exhaled slowly as Angeal pushed inside. He was large, but six months of steady escorting for customers of all shapes and sizes makes your body accustomed to just about anything.

He made love at the same pace as he courted, with occasional bouts of frenzied thrusting thrown in from time to time. They always caught Harry pleasantly off guard and made him arch and lose all coherence. Slowly but steadily, they built up to a mutual release.

Harry was thankful that Angeal made no rude attempts to bite him when he came like some uncouth barbarians. Stroking his hair and back by turns, he enjoyed a legitimate afterglow for a full half an hour before getting up to use the loo.

When he came back Angeal pinned him to the padded bathroom door and presented incontrovertible evidence that he meant to get his money's worth.

Harry decided that he honestly didn't mind, and was actually pleased. He was still pleased by round four, and fell asleep halfway through round five.

The next morning, he woke before Angeal and quietly slipped out as the sun was rising. He left his number and a note about not minding servicing him again the next time he required an escort's services.

~000~

End Heart and Loins

Odd pairing? Yes. Awesome? That's up to you. Let me know in a review!


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